


A Hard Cascade of Chemical Reactions

by MrsFish721



Category: Agents of S.H.I.E.L.D. (TV)
Genre: Anxiety, Canon Compliant, F/M, Heavy Angst, Hurt/Comfort, I AM A FITZSIMMONS SHIPPER, I feel the need to shout that from the rooftops, No Fluff, Panic Attacks, and I have a neverending love of Jemma, but I don't hate Will, extremely nsfw, slightly rough consensual sex
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-12-31
Updated: 2015-12-31
Packaged: 2018-05-10 17:11:47
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 5,063
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/5594254
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/MrsFish721/pseuds/MrsFish721
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>There's only one thing that really makes Jemma forget. </p>
<p>Set a few hours after Jemma and Will's first kiss in 3x05.</p>
            </blockquote>





	A Hard Cascade of Chemical Reactions

**Author's Note:**

> OK, so despite being a hard-core Fitzsimmons shipper who was completely devastated and felt slightly sick after 3x05, this idea WOULD NOT leave my brain. It's partly inspired by Elizabeth Henstridge's own explanation of the nature of the connection between Jemma and Will, and partly me trying to work out Jemma's headspace on the planet between her kissing Will and the last day.
> 
> Trigger warning for panic attacks, and I'm not kidding with the rating folks, this is a hard E.

Jemma's eyes snapped open and she sat straight up in the darkness, the shiv she'd made what seemed like forever ago in her hand. She'd been dreaming of nothing, the blackness surrounding and suffocating her. Her mind quickly catalogued everything in the immediate vicinity, registering that she was naked and cold sweat was pooling in her armpits and at the small of her back. A memory pricking at the edges of her vision, she reached out an arm and felt Will's hard chest beside her, her fingers tangling in the wiry hair there. She waited a beat for the reassuring rise and fall of his breathing and then withdrew her hand, using the edges of the sleeping bag to wipe some of the sweat off her body. 

Will hadn't so much as stirred when she touched him and seemed to be sleeping deeply, which made sense after experiencing his first orgasm in years that had been given to him by another human being. She was grateful, both because it meant he was peaceful for once and also because she couldn't bother him with the panic swirling inside of her.

She could feel the adrenaline coursing through her body, triggering the cortisol that would soon make her feel like she was choking. She tried to tell herself it was just a chemical reaction to the constant stress her body and mind were subjected to on this godforsaken planet. Home, home,  _ home _ . . . that's what Will had said.

She tasted bile in the back of her throat and the face that had been hiding behind her eyelids was suddenly sharp and clear. His face the day they had met, cockily informing her that of course he could build an oscillating field particle accelerator for their project, he could do that in his sleep, but his real genius would be in miniaturizing the model, which he could do if she'd give him some bloody time. The way he'd looked right before she'd jumped out of the plane, calling her name, desperately trying to get to her or die trying. The defeat and resignation on his face as he'd finally told her how he felt about her before giving her the oxygen. How he could never even really talk about it because he just felt so much and how she KNEW that. All the times he wouldn't, couldn't look at her after she came back from Hydra. The self-loathing she could see every single time he stuttered in front of her, searching for words. The silent understanding and forgiveness during their fake fight for Bobbi and Mack and Gonzalez, knowing they were thinking with one mind again and that he understood the double meaning of everything she was saying. And not least, the tentative and terrified hope in his eyes when she'd grabbed his hand and said "Maybe there is."

The panic was rising and making it hard to breathe. Her vision was swimming, obscuring everything but him.

Gone, gone,  _ gone _ . . . Not even his picture on her phone anymore, no video of him saying her name, no rest of their shared life side-by-side in the most perfect place she could imagine, stuck here forever . . .  _ forever _ . . . FOREVER. She wasn't smart enough or strong enough to find her way back to him and she had failed, failed him, failed herself. She couldn't complete her half of the puzzle and now she would never know--

_ He _ would never know, not really, he would never get to hear her say--

No, stop--

Jemma squeezed her eyes shut, trying to focus on making her breaths slow and even. What had helped before? Oh . . . yes . . . it was why she was naked and lying beside Will . . .

The slight ache between her legs told her all too clearly. It had been quick and desperate and Will was pushing into her before she really knew what was happening or, truth be told, had been quite ready. She'd spared a thought of thankfulness for her IUD, but it had been a few years since she'd had sex and she had thought (hoped? assumed? desperately wanted?) that it would have been with --

_ No. Stop. _

She had felt her lack of wetness and shut her eyes tight, focusing on the sensations of his large rough hands on her thighs, the scratch of his beard on her face and then her breasts, his tongue swirling around her nipple, his mouth opening hers. He looked down at her with such awe, like she was a dream, and it gutted her because for so long she had wondered if he was a nightmare. But his hands and mouth had felt so good that she felt her body getting slicker and slicker and he'd slid in and out of her faster and faster, setting her nerves on fire. She'd known it would be over in mere minutes, considering how long it had been for him. Not wanting him to feel bad, she'd reached a hand down to her clit and pushed herself over the edge she'd just realized she was dancing on.

That's when she'd felt it, the pure, blinding white bliss of forgetting, as her lateral orbitofrontal cortex shut down and her body chased a dopamine rush. It was brief but effective, even though she knew the science of why it worked. But then despite the oxytocin surging through her body, it all came rushing back.

"Jemma, look at me," Will had said, and she had burst into tears, burying her head in his shoulder and blocking her ears to his attempts to comfort her. "Don't, please," she'd said when he tried to speak, telling her how sorry he was. She cried huge gulping sobs that she couldn't control, the panic rising higher. She would never, now, not with--

She had never even gotten to see what it would have been like to finally ki-- after all these years --

She'd been crying and she couldn't breathe but she could still see him and she would never actually  _ see _ him again. Rapid-fire images shot through her brain, what-ifs and might-have-beens, his hands that she'd always loved to watch, that could fix anything broken and could probably fix her before pulling her apart again. Would he be tentative and nervous or --

And suddenly she'd known he wouldn't have been, that when it came to her he had always been strong and steady and uncompromising, and that he had a passion for her that she had not even begun to understand . . . And now she never would.

And then she couldn't breathe.

Will was there and wrapped his arms tight around her while post-orgasm oxytocin flowed through her and her parasympathetic nervous system calmed down. He hadn't said a word and she'd finally felt her airways open and the oxygen fill her lungs. Finally she lay shaking and quiet and he had just rubbed her back until she'd fallen asleep on his shoulder.

But now she was awake again.

Never again, she was  _ never _ going to see hi--

Never have him pick up the thread of her working thoughts, never catch his eye and know he knew what she was thinking from across the room, never see that look on his face that told her just how loved she was, never again be one half of a whole . . .

It occurred to Jemma then that maybe she truly was just half a person without him . . . Maybe they were two half people banging their heads against a universe trying to get to each other-- but the universe was too cruel and uncompromising in its precision and logic and didn't understand or care that they  _ needed _ each other, that she  _ needed _ him--

No. It was done. She had run every scenario and her logic concluded that it was done. He was out there somewhere and that would have to be enough for her. It was enough.

It wasn't enough, it would never be enough --

Never be with -- not like this--

Stuck here  _ forever _ \--

The panic was rising again and she had to stop it, had to stop the cortisol before it reached its peak--

She needed it again. Needed that release, needed to forget. Now. She made the decision and categorized it as the solution quickly, and as always after finding a solution to a problem, her brain focused with a laser-like intensity on implementing it.

She had turned on her side, facing away from Will, but she reached behind her and tugged his arm over her. He nuzzled into the back of her neck and she ground her ass against him experimentally and felt him harden instantly.

"Professor?" he said, waking up. The low pitch of his voice caused something to flare within her and she remembered the feeling of him inside her, filling her and making her feel something besides despair, however briefly. She sighed in relief. She could take that tiny spark and fan it into a flame and ride it to its inevitable conclusion.

How was she supposed to say it? Just come right out with it? "I need you to fuck me again, hard, so that I can come with your cock sliding in and out of me and I can forget?" Bloody hell, she could never say anything like that and she could feel herself getting hot and embarrassed just thinking the words.

Although with the way he was gripping her hip and grinding his length into her ass, she might not have to. She began to rock against him, at first because it made the panic subside and gave her something to focus on, but then because his hands began to roam across her body, and she remembered that those hands had made her feel good. She could feel herself getting wetter and the sick feeling in her stomach become a kindling lust. Lust that was building with every little thrust he made against her, with every time he whispered her name in her ear in his deep and sleepy and comforting voice, lust for  _ him _ , for the man beside her, who was here and real and all that lay in her future . . .

He reached down and drew his cock into and across her folds, bringing wetness with him and making her release a breathy moan.

"Will . . . Will, I . . . "

"Yes?" he practically growled at her, reaching around her to press his thumb into her clit.

"I . . . I need you again." There, she'd said it and she wouldn't have to say anything else and he would understand just what she wanted.

He groaned against her neck and took his finger away to grasp her chin in his hand and turn her face towards him for a kiss. She sucked his lower lip into her mouth and bit down not-quite-gently to show him how displeased she was that he had removed his hand.

Maybe he didn't quite understand yet, but she was determined to make him. She pushed him away and rocked against him again. "No, don't stop touching me." Her head was still turned and she made eye contact, his eyes coming up to hers from where he'd been watching himself slide against her ass. "I need it, Will . . . Please."

His face was in shadow but she could still see the desperate lust on it, pupils blown wide and eyes heavy lidded. "Fuck, Jemma . . . ". She knew she wasn't being fair and that she was the first woman he'd been with in 14 years, but the look on his face was giving her a giddy sense of her own power.

It made her bold. "Touch my clit again." He seemed to like the command, as he groaned and bit down softly on her shoulder as he made little circles over and around her clit. But it wasn't enough. "Inside," she gasped out, and he hooked his hand underneath her top knee and pulled it over his leg, opening her to him. He plunged two fingers into her but she was so wet it barely registered. Jemma braced her right hand against the cot for leverage and rode his fingers, seeking as much friction against her wetness as possible. "You feel amazing," he murmured in her ear, and Jemma thought to herself that of course she felt amazing, she was wet and rubbing herself against him and insinuating in every possible way that she wanted to be fucked, so why wasn't he doing it already? "Not . . . enough," she ground out.

Without warning she rolled over onto her stomach and reached wildly behind her for him. She knew she wasn't making sense and that she'd have to ask for what she wanted, but she didn't know if she could. Lacking a psychic connec--

Fuck it.

"From behind . . . I want it from behind."

He had been drawing his large hands up and down her thighs, her arms, her back, her ass. At her words he began kneading the cheeks of her ass, dragging up wetness from her center, and letting his fingers dip into and out of her.

"And just what do you want from behind?"

At that she whipped her head around to barely make out his face. His beard and the strange light of the cave combined to throw his face into shadow and made him look wild and otherworldly, which, she supposed, he was. The look on his face took her out of her own grief for a second and reminded her that he had things he needed to forget too, 14 years worth. Maybe he needed her to shut his brain off as well. She could do that for him, if nothing else. If he wanted her to say it, to take his arousal and build it higher, to get rid of any inhibitions they both might have, she could at least try. She stared back at him as she raised herself to her hands and knees and then turned back so she wasn't facing him. She knew what she wanted to say, what he wanted to hear, and what she wanted to feel him do to her. Just thinking about it was making her wetter, but she had never in her life done anything like this. But they needed this, needed to do everything possible to forget and just feel. But that didn't mean she could say it to his face. Yet.

"You know what I want, Will. Your . . . " He had reached around and was circling her clit again. " . . . Your cock in my . . .  _ fuck _ . . . my pussy." As soon as she said it she felt her arousal ratchet up even higher, the words bringing the images into her brain, images that blocked everything else.

"You've got a dirty mouth, Professor." He was bent over her back, tracing the long line of her scoliosis scar with his tongue.

She shivered and she couldn't wait anymore. "I  _ said  _ that . . . . fuck, Will." His hands were all over her, sliding across her nipples, spanning her waist, tugging on her hair as he ran his fingers through it, kneading her cheeks and pulling them apart. " . . . I want you to  _ fuck _ . . . " His thumb settled over the cleft in her ass and pushed in ever so slightly. "Oh god . . . my pussy . . .  _ Now _ ," she finally bit out.

"Your fucking dripping wet pussy," he murmured against her ear as his hands jerked her hips up and he buried himself deep inside her, sliding in so easily that she nearly cried at just how good it felt.

Jemma braced herself on her hands and knees and let sensation overtake her. The only sounds she could hear were her own pornographic moans, Will's voice biting out "Fuck yes" over and over again, and the wet slap of his balls hitting her clit, which felt bloody amazing. Dimly she became aware that he had let go of her hips and she was moving back and forth on his cock without his guidance, fucking him as she barely made out words, gasping obscene encouragements and building up to a fever pitch.

She was about to fall over the edge when he grabbed her hips and abruptly pulled out of her. She jerked her head around, mouth falling open to reprimand him when she felt his hands pull her cheeks apart and his tongue circle her clit and then plunge into her. She lowered her head to the cot, mouth open on a silent scream as she gripped the sleeping bag hard and bit down on it. He moaned into her pussy, pulling her back toward him by her thighs -- she could feel his tongue everywhere, licking, sucking, fucking her. This was it, this was the feeling, this feeling that made her feel wanton and dirty, like someone she'd never been, and that the lust she and Will felt and finding a way to satisfy it together were the only things that mattered on this planet.

"God, Jemma, I've wanted to taste you for so long . . . "

And then her eyes snapped open. She started to think again, her brain firing questions at her and attempting to answer them. Had he wanted this for four months, since they met? She was the first woman he had seen in 14 years and of above average attractiveness with a highly symmetrical face and a pleasing waist to hip ratio. Obviously it wasn't very surprising, but had he really been thinking of this from the beginning? Turned on by her when, exactly? As she desperately tried and failed to escape? Because she certainly hadn't been turned on or thinking of this. Well, she had of course noticed that he was a remarkably well-formed male specimen. She did have eyes and a healthy libido. But she had hardly been thinking of  _ this .  _ Her head and heart had been too full of -- 

And if he had been thinking of it the whole time, 4 months was hardly "so long," especially compared to how long Fi--

The panic was returning and she had to stop it. "Stop thinking, stop thinking. . . "

He pulled up. He must have heard her because he pulled on her hip and tried to flip her over to face him but she dug her knees into the cot and wouldn't let him.

"No, I need . . . "

"What do you need, Jemma? Tell me what you need." His voice was still laced with arousal but she could hear him fighting for some measure of control.

She needed to forget, goddamnit, and now he was fucking it up . . . no, that wasn’t fair, this was her fault, not his . . .

She had to pick up the thread of her arousal again and  _ stop thinking _ . She felt those huge strong hands of his, so different from--

She felt them on her hips, large enough to wrap around them and almost touch. Large enough to leave bruises. Large enough to hurt. A visual flashed through her brain and she moaned out loud. It was something she'd never thought about wanting before, but she knew she wanted it from him, here, in this place where nothing was the way it was supposed to be. The thought of it was making her so wet she was dripping, and so she knew it would wipe her mind clean and drive out -- Maybe she could make him do it without asking.

"Don't stop, Will."

She reached behind and grabbed his hand where it rested on her hip and intertwined their fingers. She dragged them across her ass and he reached down and she felt the delicious slide of his tongue on her folds again. But it wasn't quite right. She reached behind her and grabbed his hair.

He spoke into her pussy as he added his finger. "I don't know what you want, Jemma. You have to tell me."

She concentrated on the sound of his voice, and she could tell he was trying to calm her down and get her to focus. "Do you want me to fuck you again? Fuck that tight little pussy of yours?" His voice got lower and lower and she got even wetter, if that was possible. He'd added another finger and they were moving agonizingly slowly as his tongue licked a slow swath across her clit.

Jemma rocked her pussy against his face and sank her forehead onto the cot again. She turned her face to the side so he'd be sure to hear her.

"I need . . . I need you to . . "

"Need me to what? Say what you want, Jemma." She could feel the rough hair of his beard on the inside of her thighs, so close to where she was most sensitive, and she marveled at the ability of her mind to blot out the bigger picture and just focus on every tiny thing that made her body feel pleasure.

His fingers slowly fucking her and his tongue and his hot breath on her sensitive folds were driving her mad. But she needed more, and in her need every single inhibition she had was melting away.

" Sp --Spank me. Hard."

God, was this really her saying these things? She had never . . . She had never even thought about . . . But that didn't matter anymore.

She felt him pause. "Please. It's okay. Do it."

She barely had time to wonder what she would do if he thought she was going too far before his huge hand came down on her ass, hard, just the way she asked.

" _ Oh fuck yes _ . . . " She bucked against him -- the pleasure-pain was just what she wanted and everything went blank again and her whole body was focused on the sting of her skin under Will's hand and the throbbing in her now painfully swollen clit.

"Again. Harder."

He was so blessedly merciful, not asking questions and bringing his hand down on her ass again, so hard that the sound echoed through the cave and she knew he'd left a handprint. The thought just excited her more.

" _ Oh god . . .  _ fuck me.  _ Hard _ . Fuck my pussy til I come." Her breath was coming short now, but not because of panic. This was nothing but pleasure. Pleasure that was making her thighs shake so that they could barely hold her up.

But then it didn't matter because he was doing exactly as she asked, thrusting into her wildly with one hand on her hip and the other on her shoulder in a grip that hurt.

She was lost, nothing but sensation flowing through her. All she could do was feel, and everything she felt was physical, all emotions washed away with the pleasure racing through her.

He was breathing erratically and his groans were filling the cave. There were words coming out of his mouth, phrases she knew were just sinfully filthy, but her brain couldn't even process them. He was losing control and his thrusts were getting wilder.

He smacked her ass again as he fucked her, the force of his hips slamming against her threatening to knock her forward off the cot. It was the hardest one yet and she cried out, the pressure building in her core tightening deliciously, and she knew she would explode soon. " _ Fuck _ , Jemma, you're gonna -- Come on, come . . . come on my cock."

He was too far gone, she could tell. He bent over her and bit down hard on her shoulder. "Come all over it."

She could feel him close but she was getting what she came for first. She grabbed his hand off her shoulder so she could suck two of his fingers into her mouth and then guided them to her clit so that he could rub her into oblivion.

" _ Jemma _ , I'm gonna--"

"Make me come, Will. Please,  _ please _ , make me feel good . . . " She was practically sobbing with pleasure, all inhibitions long since shattered, his fingers driving her higher as his cock slid rapidly against all the best places inside her and the fingers of his other hand dug hard into her ass, pulling her apart and opening her more, gripping so hard she knew there'd be lovely bruises tomorrow. "Make me come, make me come on your cock . . .  _ Fuuuuck _ . . . " Her throat was raw from the force of her cries, but there was nobody but Will to hear her ever again and she knew she could be as loud as she'd never dared to be in her other life.

He let go and came with a deep groan, pulling her hips tight against him so he was buried as deep within her as possible, just as her orgasm ripped through her almost violently. She sighed in relief as the dopamine and oxytocin coursed through her. This, this was what she wanted. This feeling of amazing bliss that obliterated everything in its path. Nothing mattered, nothing, nothing but her pussy spasming around Will's cock, taking everything he had to give deep inside her. She rode the wave to its completion while he rolled his fingers against her just how she liked it. Lights were still going off behind her eyelids and tiny aftershocks were shaking her from the most powerful orgasm she'd ever had. Much better than the first one . . .

Will collapsed on top of her and she lay beneath the reassuring hard weight of his body for a second, enjoying the high of hormones flowing through her, but eventually she needed to breathe and she flailed her hand frantically against the cot as if she were suffocating.

He muttered "Oh shit, Jemma," popping up quickly and she burst out laughing, long and low, the laugh of a well-satisfied woman.

"Glad to see I amuse you, Professor," he said into her hair.

Still giggling, she pushed him off her and rolled onto her back. "Oh, you  _ definitely _ amuse me, Sir. In more ways than one."

"Sir? I could get used to that . . . Although with how bossy you are in bed, I don't see that happening anytime soon . . . Ow!" He dodged her hand as it came around for a second blow.

"I am not bossy!" But she was still laughing, which belied her protests.

"Oh really?! I'm sure there are  _ plenty _ of people that could back me up on that!"

And at that, the spell was broken and she came crashing down, face falling and giggles stopping abruptly. A voice was threatening to make itself heard, a voice she knew she would never hear again, grumbling that if she just wasn't so damn  _ bossy _ all the time--

She could not think of his voice, she could not hear him saying her name a thousand different ways the way he'd done a million times. If she did she would go crazy trying to reach something that didn't exist. Not here anyway.

She focused on breathing. Oxytocin. It would be okay. Oxytocin would keep the panic at bay.

Will's face fell along with hers and he looked slightly ashamed. "I'm sorry Jemma, I know you still --"

"Shhhh. It's okay Will." She would not let him feel bad for this, not when she had properly begged him for it and when she felt like the temporary ecstasy he'd given her was the only thing standing between her and a dark abyss.

She snuggled into his side and kissed him slowly, languidly, sliding her tongue into his mouth, before laying her head on his chest. If she squeezed herself as tightly into Will as possible . . . He seemed to understand and his arm became like a vice grip around her shoulder, helping her to take calming breaths. Suddenly she was overwhelmed with affection and gratitude for this wonderful, good, amazing man. She had to remember how lucky she was to have found him and to not only not be alone on this planet, but to get him of all people as a companion. And suddenly she knew that if she was going to spend the rest of her life here, she was going to spend it erasing every second of the 14 years of loneliness he had endured. He deserved that.

"Will?"

"Hmm?" He had his lips pressed to her hairline and she could feel the vibration, which calmed her further.

"Thank you."

His deep laugh rumbled into her. "Oh, believe me when I say 'Anytime,' Professor."

She moved her head so she could look up at him, surprised, after what they'd just done, to feel a slight blush coloring her cheeks. "I'll probably take you up on that." She bit her lip at the heat in his eyes as he looked down at her and then quickly buried her face in his neck again. Thoughts and images of all the other things they could try filled her mind and for the first time in what she had to accept was her new home, she felt like she was looking forward to something that existed  _ here . _

They were silent then, and Jemma thought to herself that this was one of the more underrated aspects of the planet: the silence, the ability to be alone with her thoughts. It was both a blessing and a terrible curse, but right in this moment she appreciated it, just lying in Will's arms feeling his fingers comb gently through her hair. But then he sighed deeply and rubbed his other hand across his face. She silently begged him not to speak, but to no avail.

"Look, Jemma, I just want you to know that if you ever want to talk about Fi--"

She stopped him with two fingers over his lips. If she let him say his name, especially now, after  _ that ,  _ she would crumble, she would break like glass and Will would never be able to pick up all the pieces. She knew it with a certainty she would never be able to explain. She couldn't crumble. Because then Will would be alone again and she couldn't do that to him. She had failed Fi--

So many times. But she would not fail Will. She could do this. Tuck him away forever in some deep secret part of her that not even Will would ever be able to reach. She could. She could do anything.

"I don't," she said, giving him what she desperately hoped was her most blinding smile.

And then he was looking at her like she was the sun come out for the first time in 14 years and she knew she had succeeded. She could do this, she told herself again.

. . . . .

And as she let sleep pull her under, she could almost swear his face wasn't the last thing she saw.

Almost.

**Author's Note:**

> Confession: This is the first piece of fiction I've ever written, which everyone can probably tell, but I'm sort of proud of myself for even writing and posting it at all. You don't have to be gentle or anything, but any comments will let me know what I can work on in the future if I ever decide to write anything else -- also, this was beta'd by my husband, who knows next to nothing about writing, so there's that . . . .
> 
> And as an FS shipper, this was actually pretty painful for me to write, so if you're an FS shipper and even made it all the way to the end, you have my thanks!


End file.
